


Worst. Neighbor. Ever.

by patrickstumpismydad



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Gen, M/M, Neighbors, Peterick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 13:21:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4393493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patrickstumpismydad/pseuds/patrickstumpismydad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We're apartment neighbors and your alarm clock wakes up every day, you play an instrument really badly, and now you're on my door step asking for extra sugar in pajama pants with my most hated sports team (or superhero) on it AU. PETERICK. PATRICK/PETE FLUFF. FALL OUT BOY.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worst. Neighbor. Ever.

Patrick is so fucking tired of waking up at 6 am when he doesn’t have to. He was really excited when he got the afternoon shift at the little cafe he works at part time because it meant he could perform at night with his band and not have to worry about waking up early the next day. That was the plan; however, a certain highly irritating neighbor had thrown quite the wrench in it.  
Every single morning, Neighbor Guy’s alarm clock rings at six. His bedroom must be right next to the wall that he shares with Patrick because it never fails to wake him up. That would be annoying enough on its own, but then Neighbor Guy proceeds to hit snooze at least four times, waking Patrick up again and again every ten minutes. He’s about ready to put his fist through the wall and throw the clock out onto the street.  
Since he’s never met Neighbor Guy, he isn’t sure what he does for a living but whatever it is it allows him to be home practically all day despite waking up at such an early hour. The walls are made of paper and Patrick can hear practically everything he does, including but not limited to what he’s assuming is supposed to be singing in the shower and really horrible bass playing. Sometimes he’s pretty sure he can hear Neighbor Guy jerking off, but he’s quite certain he just hasn’t gotten laid in a really long time.  
The only day Neighbor Guy doesn’t wake him up with his ridiculous amount of noise is Saturday, which Patrick is thankful for because that’s usually the night he has to stay up for a big show. Tonight he and his band have a gig at an underground bar that’s supposed to pay pretty well. It’s not Madison Square Garden, but they’ll take what they can get. He’s happily dreaming of sold out shows and golden records when a loud bang on his door forces him awake.  
He groans and tries to ignore it, but whoever is knocking on his door is persistent as hell. “Alright, alright, I’m coming,” Patrick whimpers, dragging himself out of bed and glaring at the clock that only reads 7:30. “What the hell do you want?” Patrick rubs at his eyes and takes in the stranger standing in front of his door with a coffee mug in his hand and a sheepish grin on his face. He’s tan and only a little taller than Patrick with a cute face and dark hair lying in front of his eyes. Patrick is suddenly very conscious that he looks like a mess, old batman boxers and ruffled hair.  
“Hey man,” the stranger smiles, way too cheerily for such an early hour. “I was making coffee but I realized I didn’t have any sugar. Can I borrow some?”   
It takes Patrick a second to realize that this must be Neighbor Guy. He’s sure if looks could kill, the stranger would be dead on the ground in three seconds flat. “You woke me up at 7:30 in the morning to ask me for a favor?”  
Neighbor Guy’s eyes go a little wide at Patrick’s tone. “I-is that the time? I didn’t sleep much last night, been awake since four so I thought it must be later. I’m really sorry dude. But since you’re awake now..”  
Patrick just stares at him, dumbfounded. He steps aside so Neighbor Guy can come in and shakes his head in disgust as he stomps over to his cupboard, grabbing the small canister he keeps his sugar in and practically hitting Neighbor Guy with it as he pushes it into his hands. “Get the fuck out.”  
“Whoa man, you really aren’t a morning person are you?” Neighbor Guy actually has the nerve to laugh as he watches Patrick storm around like an angry elf. He tries to keep his composure, he really does, but that stupid smirk pushes him over the edge.   
“Every fucking morning your alarm clock wakes me up hours before I need to be awake! Your shitty bass playing makes me want to kill myself and the sound of your voice makes me want to kill you! Get the fuck out of my apartment with your stupid Superman pajama pants before this turns into a murder suicide!” He slams the door in Neighbor Guy’s face when he finally gets him out.  
Patrick absolutely does not jerk off in the shower with the memory of that stupid smirk in his head. He is not attracted to Neighbor Guy and he definitely never wants to see him ever again.

Two days later, there’s a timid knock on his door at six in the evening, a much better time for socialization which is probably the main reason Patrick finds himself inviting Neighbor Guy, who introduced himself as Pete on the note he left with Patrick’s sugar container outside his door, in for an apologetic drink. “Sorry about yelling at you. I hate mornings.” He doesn’t add on the fact that he also kind of hates Pete, but he thinks he got that message across loud and clear the other day.  
“It’s okay dude, sorry for being a nuisance for the last couple months. I thought I had it bad listening to you sing in the shower, but your voice is actually really nice. I never thought about the obvious fact that if I could hear you, you could hear me,” Pete grins and Patrick blushes at the compliment. He never thought about being heard either.  
He lets Pete mix him some insane whiskey concoction that he’s pretty sure is going to taste like vomit and after a few drinks they’re lying on the floor in Patrick’s living room. “Man, does my bass playing really suck? I mean I know I’m not amazing but am I really that shitty?”  
Patrick laughs and smiles at Pete with a goofy, drunk flush on his cheeks. “Not really. I just said that because I was angry and you’re so noisy. You’re better than the bass player in my band.”  
“You’re in a band?? That is so cool,” Pete whispers as if it’s some big secret. “I shouldn’t be surprised. Your voice is beautiful like an angel.” Patrick turns bright red and tries to hide his face in his hands. He isn’t used to compliments like this. Somehow they end up with Pete’s head tucked under Patrick’s chin. Usually he’d be opposed to such an invasion of space but the whiskey and Pete’s intoxicating personality is quite persuasive.  
“It feels like we’ve been friends forever,” Pete murmurs against Patrick’s neck. “Let’s be best friends, okay Trick?”  
“Get a new alarm clock and then we’ll talk.”


End file.
